


The First Love of Queen Nymeria

by Silberias



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:58:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4888222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silberias/pseuds/Silberias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Mors Martell stands proud before a woman blown to his coastline by the winds of fate. </p><p>Princess Nymeria of Ny Sar walks boldly towards this new destiny she has chosen for herself and her people. </p><p>The Invasion of the Rhoynar--or, the meeting of two ambitious people with similar goals and how they changed history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Love of Queen Nymeria

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alijah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alijah/gifts).



> For Alijah, who has the most wonderful headcanons. 
> 
> This plot bunny bit me rather hard this evening. 
> 
> There are bits of my made up Rhoynish from my other story, but it isn't super important that you know their translations I think. It's just English structure mashed into new words (aka par for the course for English). I'll put translations at the end, though. 
> 
> So here we go! Enjoy!

Her skin was dark, from the hands of the Seven more than the work of the sun. Mors stood tall, his spear planted firmly in the ground as he watched her walk towards him. The woman was shorter than he, as were many of the people with her, but as the wind whipped her curls this way and that he felt no advantage over her for it--despite having all advantage against her.

The huge fleet had been sighted late the previous evening and he had had all night to gather what forces he could--and before the Septon he had knelt in prayer at dawn, asking the Warrior and the Smith if he had been right to exclude King Guyaine of Godsgrace in the knowledge of these visitors. He would face them himself and show his worth. The King of the Godly East had no brothers, no uncles, and no sons--only a daughter and Mors was a man of ambition and dreams. It would sadden him to leave his beloved Spearhold, but he would do it on promise of becoming the King of Godsgrace.

A servant named Tycran fretted and fidgeted next to him, a survivor of a shipwreck a few years past and apparently of the same origin as his visitor. The girl had had time to learn Andaii, though she still conducted her prayers in her native language to her eastern gods.

"The Princess Nymeria of Ny Sar and all of the Rhoynar, my lord," the servant said once the woman stood before them. She surveyed his party like a general his battlefield, her head held high and chin thrown up. Her clothes were worn from travel upon the sea, and no jewels adorned her fingers or throat--though a wickedly curved short sword at her side glistened with them, and on the parting of her hair a braid of precious metals ended with a sapphire the size of his thumbnail. Her companions were likewise attired and armed.

Mors gave her a bow such as he would have given to King Guyaine had the man stood before him.

"Tha aonos Mors e mazmo Martell wem Ny Spearhold, aoske," the servant continued, hesitating greatly between some of the words. Mors hoped that the woman hadn't forgotten any of her language, she was the only quick link between himself and the woman whose people were landing in droves upon the shoreline miles north and south of Spearhold.

"Aonos?" she asked, her eyes flicking up and down his form once more.

"Talor, aetha vael ii aonos e tha Dornii wem tha Rhoynavno," the servant said, a suddenly anxious tone taking her voice. Mors cast a suspicious glance at his servant--she had been his cupbearer since she'd arrived for he could not trust her to otherwise go unmolested. Had he trusted her too hastily?

"Talor, xaly Tycran Garinhat. Vaeha ii aonos," she replied before stepping forward and putting forward her hand for him to take. Tycran took his spear so he could properly take the lady's hand and kiss her knuckles gently--and had to resist throwing her to the ground when she yanked him around and threw their linked hands up in the air to a mighty cry from those who could see them from the beaches and the procession the woman had brought with her.

"Tycran, what is the meaning of this?"

Tycran, who had a witty mind despite her melancholy, gave him a tremulous smile.

"The Princess Nymeria will take you as her husband and proclaim you Prince of the Rhoynar. I," she paused for a long moment as the woman tucked his hand into the crook of her elbow, "know of your plans to become King of Godsgrace. My lady will stop at nothing but securing a land entire for the Rhoynar."

Mors bent his head to conceal his smile from his servant--servant? The princess at his side seemed to greet the girl with some honor. Xaly Tycran Garinhat--he would have to find out what that meant exactly, and hope that giving Tycran the position of cupbearer of Spearhold was not too insulting.

"And you yourself know I would much rather be King of Dorne than only King of Godsgrace and the Godly East," he said to his cupbearer though his smile was directed at the woman at his side. She gave him a returning smile, though her eyes were ever wary and he couldn't help but notice she'd taken his arm in such a fashion as to allow her to draw her weapon if she needed to.

"You will not be King of anything, my lord. The Rhoynar kill kings and queens in their beds--they call them defilers and traitors. No, you shall have to settle for Prince," she replied. With a spear in her hand she seemed to stand a little taller, her shoulders thrown back with authority.

"As you have settled for cupbearer?"

"Cupbearing has returned me to my princess, my lord, I would not trade it for anything else."

With a laugh he nodded and continued on his way, glad suddenly to have a warrior woman of the Rhoynar at his back as he led Princess Nymeria's honor guard into the keep.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Tha aonos Mors e mazmo Martell wem Ny Spearhold, aoske_ // The Prince Mors of the House Martell and Spearhold, Princess. ||| _Talor, aetha vael ii aonos e tha Dornii wem tha Rhoynavno_ // Yes, this man will be Prince of the Dornish and the Rhoynar. ||| _Talor, xaly Tycran Garinhat. Vaeha ii aonos_ // Yes, esteemed Tycran wife of Garin. He will be Prince. |||
> 
> So there we go...! Tiny ugly headcanon bunnies for the win!
> 
> Let me know what you think :D


End file.
